


I Want It All With You

by acornandroid



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Beverly Marsh is the hero we all deserve, Coming Out, Eddie Lives, Fix It, Hypochondriac Eddie, M/M, National Coming Out Day, Richie And Eddie Are Idiots In Love, germaphobe Eddie, of course he lives my poor heart can't take it, they bone in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 12:56:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20995181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acornandroid/pseuds/acornandroid
Summary: The only problem with facing down a killer clown and coming to terms with your sexuality and the intense crush you've harbored on your best friend unknowingly for the past twenty-seven years is no one will accept that. The other problem on Richie's plate is knowing that he wants to share every stupid little thing Eddie does with the world-- which requires coming out.





	I Want It All With You

**Author's Note:**

> Happy National Coming Out Day!
> 
> Glad I got to post this today because it fits. 
> 
> As always thanks to my lovely girlfriend and everlasting light of my life for putting up with my bullshit and editing this for me. Follow her on Twitter cause she's an amazing artist and editor @becomegroovy

“You handwrite your notes, Richie?”

Bev’s voice drew his attention from across the kitchen, where he had been trying to piece the Keurig back together after it had suffered through an Edward Kaspbrack Deep Cleaning (patent pending).

“Huh? Oh- yeah. When I actually write them. Just had a couple of dumb ideas lately- did this piece go this way or the other way?” Richie brushed off the question and tried to get the top of the tray back on. 

Beverly Marsh was one of his two house guests at the moment. Going through a messy and overly public divorce would do things to you. So would battling a killer clown, both were a nightmare and a half. So when Bev had voiced concerns about going from an abusive marriage to moving right in with Ben, he had no hesitation offering one of his homes as a place to stay.

“Richie, these are really good.” Beverly pressed, pulling the open notebook a little closer to herself with one hand while her coffee mug stayed cradled in the other. “I mean, I could hear you making jokes like this.”

“That’s kinda the point when you write your own shit, Bev.” Richie snorted, finally getting the top to click in place with a shout of triumph. “Take that you fucking piece of shit- Hey, remind me to make Eddie put this back together next time, yeah?”

Bev gave a soft huff of a laugh, muffled out against the rim of her mug. The rest of the house was still soft with sleep, aside from Eddie, who was off somewhere either getting hard water build up off the shower glass or going through his weekly ritual of sheet washing. Either way, it was more strain than either of them would like him to be putting himself through, but stopping Eddie seemed futile after the first week of bedrest. Especially in Richie’s house of all places. The two had started bickering about the state of it and second he stepped foot in the door, bandages, stitches, and all.

She pushed the journal back into Richie’s spot at the kitchen table, resting her cheek against her fist and watching her friend. “So why don’t you use these?”

That earned a moment of pause, just a brief hesitation that no one but Beverly Marsh would pick up on. She knew her idiot boys and she knew them well, right down to what a subtle twitch of Eddie’s left eye meant, or if Bill tripped over a word with an ‘S’ instead of a word with a ‘B’.

Richie was usually a fumble, usually followed by a dismissal or a derailing.

“Cause I pay writers for a reason, Bev. It’s not like me to waste a fuck ton of money, right?” He made an overly vague gesture to the very fancy kitchen, refusing to meet her gaze and going for another cup of coffee instead. His third that morning.

Dismissal it was then.

Like hell she was going to let that happen.

“Richie, come on.” Bev pressed, turning in her chair to watch him, crossing one silk pajama clad leg over the other.

Richie gave a frustrated gesture, a huff, a shrug, and promptly gave up all too easily. She knew she could weasel it out of him quickly.

“You’ve seen that shit.”

“Yeah? And it's good.”

“Half of it is about… Eddie.”

“I noticed. Eddie does funny stuff- I’m sure if you’re worried about him taking it the wrong way you can run jokes by him first—”

“That’s not what I’m worried about, Bev.”

Beverly watched him a little closer. The slight hunch of his shoulders as he poured his coffee and sweetened it to taste. Reading body language was another habit she had picked up over the years. Her own expression softened, tapping the pads of her fingers once against the mug before letting them rest where they were.

“Because they’re about you two together?” She pressed, as gently as she could. It was a touchy subject, and one Richie clammed up on easily. Even if Eddie asked.

The nod that Richie gave was answer enough, and he seemed to relax just a little more as he finally turned to look at her.

“Can’t exactly make jokes about how your fucking boyfriend washes the dishes _ before _putting them in the dishwasher without telling your entire audience that you have a boyfriend, can you?” Richie smiled, though it was sad and tired. It was the same smile Bev had seen echoed on his face during that month in the hospital, whenever Eddie had a good day but was still too weak to really move.

Bev took a careful drink of her coffee, then set the mug down next to the magazine spread out at her claimed spot. A slow breath was drawn in and she purposefully made her posture more open- more relaxed.

“No one’s going to push you out, Richie.” She started, tone soft and expression gentle, “It’s all up to you. Whatever you decide, all of us are behind you.”

Riche opened his mouth to speak, and she cut him off immediately. “No—No jokes right now. I know you hate it, but this is a moment where you should just listen to me for two seconds.”

She added another tally to her chart of ‘Bev against The Dumb Boys’ as he shut his mouth for once, and let her speak.

“All I’m saying is it's up to you. It's your choice- not Eddie’s, not mine—no, I know Eddie isn’t trying to push you out stop making that face—but, no matter what your choice is you’ll have us.” Beverly smiled once again, “You’ve got the Losers, Richie. Even if the whole world turns against any of us we’ve got each other. Half of us thought you and Eddie were dating already anyways.”

She got off her tiny soap box with a shrug and another sip of coffee, sitting back finally.

Richie let the silence stretch, watching Bev with an adoring expression. None of them really deserved her. Her soul was far too kind for this shitty world.

“Hey, Bev? Marry me.” He said, grinning stupidly.

“Mm, ‘kay, but you gotta tell Ben.”

“Only if you tell Eddie.”

“Deal.”

\---

“So I think I might do it.”

“Wha—do what?”

“Come out.”

“Wait, what—”

Eddie was out of breath, which was normal, and was caught completely off guard considering he was currently getting fucked six ways to Sunday. A noise left his mouth that he was certain he would never be allowed to live down as Richie gave a harder thrust. The headboard hit the wall- that would leave a scuff mark.

“The _ wallpaper _, Richie—” Eddie’s hands scrabbled for purchase at his lover’s back, dragging blunt nail marks down his skin.

“Dude- I’m fucking you, can we not be focused on the wallpaper right now?”

“I’m not the one who started talking about coming out as soon as he got his dick in my ass—”

“Well it's hard not to think about telling the world I’m into dudes when I’m banging one.”

The conversation dropped off the edge of the metaphorical cliff thanks to a purposefully harder thrust of Richie’s hips. No doubt he was trying to avoid the conversation until post-intercourse, and it was working. Eddie’s brain had successfully been scrambled. The next exhale hitched in Eddie’s throat along with a high pitched whine.

Richie grinned against his neck, giving a breathy laugh.

“Cute.”

“Shut the-- _ ah _\-- fuck up, dick--”

Both of them were breathless. Richie sounded a little more so, which Eddie was mentally putting a pin in to scold him about his smoking later and what a bad habit that was. He pushed the thought away as much as he could, because thinking about the likeliness of lung cancer wasn’t sexy. Richie angled his hips a little differently and Eddie rewarded him with a shout of his name, spilling out of his lips as if he could hardly keep it at bay.

Thank fuck Beverly was on a date with Ben tonight. Sure, she had mentioned being steady enough to start looking at her own places now since her solo design label was taking off, but Eddie knew they both were having a hard time putting up with another few weeks of quiet sex. They had nearly thirty years to make up for, dammit.

By this point they had just barely made up for senior year of high school. Richie had grown his hair out then in such a lovely way that frustrated Eddie to no end. How he had just wanted to grab ahold of it—

So, he did. Now, that is. Eddie got his hand into Richie’s curls and yanked hard because he _ could. _The moan that slipped past Richie’s mouth followed by a trail of whatever he was rambling on about now was a sound Eddie could just wrap himself up in.

Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier. Eddie loved him more than he could ever articulate. His mouth was next to his ear now, practically bending Eddie in half in a way he knew would mess with his back tomorrow. He’d complain about it all day, naturally, but it was worth it. It was worth it in the way Richie was muttering praises in his ear. _ You’re so fucking perfect, Eddie _ and _ Fucking look at you. Look at _ ** _you_ ** and _ God, fuck you, you know what you’re doing to me. Do you even _ ** _know _ ** _ what you’re doing to me _?

Before, sex had felt like a chore. Just another duty he was expected to perform to be a good husband. It was something expected in a marriage- something that was all about Myra and no one else. Then here came Richie waiting by his side in the hospital, kissing him so sweetly he thought he may melt. When his stitches had finally come out Eddie experienced what it felt like to _ make love _. Richie had demanded he lay back and enjoy it, let him show Eddie a good time.

It was the best time- and not only that- he had _ laughed _ during sex for the first time. He had found out what it was like to fumble like new lovers. To have your cheeks burn with a fond kind of embarrassment and butterflies twist in your stomach but not feel bad about it. There were hands on his body, murmuring _ ‘then show me where’ _ in his ear and making him laugh immediately afterwards if he got too flustered. Richie was all jokes and love where his previous relationship had been guilting and selfishness. It took him far too long to see that and getting stabbed through by a killer clown to boot but Eddie didn’t like to think about that part.

There was Richie’s hand on his cock now, falling into the rhythm they had easily found before. He was timed perfectly with his thrusts, the pattern only stuttering when Eddie yanked painfully on his hair. The pain burned into pleasure- hair pulling and nails down Richie’s skin meant Eddie was having a damn good time. It had only taken them a few nights to figure out just how the other worked. Tiny little signs that well-versed lovers knew, all the small buttons to push to make the other crazy.

Eddie locked his legs around Richie’s waist, his heels digging into the small of his back. His moaning was soft enough to not drown out the praises Richie couldn’t seem to stop, but loud enough to encourage him. The entire conversation was forgotten for the moment in favor of pure and utter bliss.

A combination of Richie in him and Richie touching him- Richie’s voice in his ear drowning out anything else- it didn’t take much longer for Eddie to be pushed over the edge. He was completely and utterly wrapped in the entity that was _ Richie Tozier _and that was more than enough to tip into oblivion.

Eddie’s orgasm met with his lover’s name on his lips. In a drawn-out sigh to the tune of everything he could not say. It didn’t take long for Richie to follow after, not with Eddie clenching up around him like he did and giving his hair one good and final tug. He fucked him through it, both of them. His pace slowly coming to a halt as they both collapsed into a sweaty, panting mess on the bed.

The bliss would last a few minutes, Richie knew, until Eddie realized that he was covered in sweat and cum and would immediately want to go shower off and wash the sheets. That’s why Richie made sure to keep the bedside table stocked with condoms, it was the easiest way to get Eddie to agree to a quick fuck before bedtime with the promise of sheet washing in the morning.

The things he did for this man.

Eddie made a quiet sound as Richie pulled out, properly disposing of the condom this time before rejoining his boyfriend on the bed. Richie gathered him into his arms, pressing a scratchy kiss to his forehead and basking in the afterglow while it lasted.

“So…” Eddie began, still beautifully breathless and relaxed. It was one of the rare moments where he wasn’t running a hundred miles faster than everyone else. Once someone gave Eddie _ actual _good sex he seemed to chill out a fraction. Richie still felt smug about that one. “You were saying?”

Richie paused, thinking back. “’Dude, I’m fucking you, can we not focus on the wallpaper right now’?”

The thoroughly ‘done with you’ sigh that was huffed out through Eddie’s nose meant he was coming back to clarity a little quicker than normal. “No.”

“Uh…’you’re fucking beautiful when you’re taking my dick’?”

“_ No. _”

He scrunched up his nose, the entire room blurry and out of focus without his glasses. They must have fallen off, Eddie seemed to like it when he kept them on during sex so he tried to do it as much as he could.

His optometrist was getting suspicious about how often he broke the frames.

“I think I might come out?”

“Yeah, that’s it. The big fucking important one.”

Eddie was tracing small patterns against his arm, which was distracting. They weren’t in their twenties anymore though, so the risk of getting it up again so soon was low.

“I dunno, you taking my dick seems like a really important one too—”

“Beep beep, Richie.”

He sighed, finding his glasses on the bed after patting around behind Eddie. They turned up not broken, thankfully. Eddie snatched them from him and slid them onto Richie’s face himself. Possessive, fussy little fucker.

“Rich, that’s a big fucking thing I mean…” Eddie trailed off slightly, looking at him now that he knew Richie could see him clearly. “Not that I don’t think people will be accepting. They will- this isn’t fucked up clown town, it’s the real world, it’s twenty-fucking-sixteen people aren’t as fucked- I mean they’re still fucked but it’s not the eighties fucked—not mom talking about the AIDs crisis fucked—”

“We don’t mention your mother in this bed unless she’s here too.”

“Fuck _ off _, Rich. I’m being serious.”

Richie reached out, his fingers brushing against the puckered scar on Eddie’s cheek. The touch trailed down, across his jaw- further down until it brushed the marks on his chest. The place where Eddie had been sewn back together. All that time at the hospital, the days they didn’t think he’d make it. Richie knowing if he lost him, he’d lost the chance at telling him. The first boy he ever loved in a time when he was so scared to, a time that lasted way past its due.

But then he had woken up, and Eddie had told him _ first _ . In the enigma that was germaphobe Edward Kaspbrack he had woken up and told Richie how _ he _had been feeling for him. It had stunned him, in the way Eddie always did. The dumbass kid with the inhaler and the fanny pack, spewing overblown facts about tetanus or some bullshit, and at the same time being the one to buy Richie ice cream and no one else. The idiot who remembered Richie’s birthday like it was a national holiday (even if his gifts were stupid). That moment told him that Eddie saw a wise cracking, gangly dork in glasses that made his eyes three sizes too big and felt like he was someone worth being with.

They made one hell of an odd pair. A fucking dynamite power couple.

That was just it, wasn’t it?

Richie looked down at him, his fingers dancing over Eddie’s heart, fluttering like a bird in his chest. At least it wasn’t anxiety this time- or maybe it was. Eddie was a tightly wound, brittle rubber band ball of anxiety.

“Yeah, its fucking big, Eds.” He told him, with the kind of honesty that flowed only within their bedroom walls, “But so are you. If I can’t tell the fucking world about you, _ and _ make profits off of the dumbass fucking way you literally deep clean like a nineteen fifties housewife- fucking apron and all dude, what the hell? Where did you get those yellow rubber gloves anyways, I didn’t even think they _ made _those anymore, you probably special ordered them off your weird ass mom blog websites. If I can’t make fun of you on stage and in my heart, then what’s the point? The gang all knows, you know I’m gay as all fuck, so…no one else matters after that.”

When he finished, Eddie looked like his brain had been stalled out for a solid five minutes. 

He looked like some salesman had invented a _ legit _cure all and only Eddie Kaspbrack got the deal. He looked like he had actually diagnosed something correctly off of that medical podcast Richie had been trying to figure out a way to delete off of Eddie’s phone forever.

He looked like Richie had just gave a flawless speech about truth, justice, and the American way and Eddie _ thanked _him for it.

Eddie lunged forward, kissing him and kissing him hard. It was unusual- because they were well past the afterglow cool down period and deeply into the ‘I need to take a shower or I’m gonna claw off my skin’ territory- but it was not unwelcome. Eddie kissed him like he needed Richie’s CO2 to breathe. It was an Eddie Kaspbrack kiss to go in the record books for sure, right up there with the first one and the one that led to their first time falling into bed. Oh, and let’s not forget the first _ ‘good morning’ _ kiss Richie had ever received from his bed-ruffled adorable man in a shirt that was two sizes too big for him.

Eddie pulled back, his hands caressing Richie’s face. Tracing the pleasing scratch of his facial hair, tucking his sweaty curls back from his forehead and watching him with the most relaxed expression he had ever made.

“You’re something else, Trashmouth.” Eddie mumbled, “But you’re my something else.”

Richie cracked a smile, unable to stop himself from claiming that kiss swollen and beard burned mouth for a quick purchase.

“That was fucking gross, Eds. This isn’t a fucking romcom.” He mumbled, which got him a well-deserved shove.

“Fuck you, I’m being nice and supportive, dickwad.”

“Aw- Eddie Spaghetti- come back. It was cute and I loved it.” Richie pulled him in close again, hugging tight. Eddie wasn’t fussing to get away which was a good sign.

“Fuck off.”

“Mm…no. I’ll shower with you? I’ll let you wash my hair with that nasty shampoo you think does something.”

Eddie considered it, pursing his already thin lips into a thinner line.

“…Alright. Bath, though. You’re on the faucet end.”

“Deal.”

\---

“I’m freaking out enough, Eds. I don’t need you doing it for me either.”

Eddie capped off his frantic rant, even though he wasn't done listing all the disgusting things Richie could pick up by walking barefoot in a hotel room. There wasn’t any way through the phone to tell that he was _ actually _barefoot, but Eddie knew the man better than most and was willing to bet his life savings that he was. It seemed like Richie had learned his lesson about Facetiming his boyfriend after his first tour away from him. It had taken nearly two hours to convince Eddie that the spot on the wall was not black mold and that he didn’t need to change hotels.

“You could have picked a less public, stress inducing way to come out.” Eddie reasoned, because he hoped being a smartass would make Richie smile. He knew he wasn’t as funny as Rich when the situation called for it, but that didn’t stop him from trying.

“Fuck you.” Richie shot back, “My whole life has been one big comedy routine, so it only makes sense to bite the bullet and joke my way through it.”

“Your whole life, huh? What am I then?”

“You’re the bathroom make out sesh during intermission that I can’t stop thinking about through the last half.” There was rustling on the other end of the line. Richie must be finally unzipping his suitcase. “The fantastic fuck that I’ll be thinking about taking home afterwards.”

Eddie smiled, “You’ve already taken me home.”

“Touché… Did you repack my suitcase, asshole?”

Well. That didn’t take long to be found out.

“I wouldn’t call any of what you did _ packing _. It was more tossing things in blindly and hoping for the best. I folded your shirts and you forgot your fucking phone charger so fuck you, you’re welcome.”

“Why did I ever need to be with your mom when you’re the whole fucking package.”

Eddie snorted, rolling his eyes. He got up, crossing over from the bed to open up the curtains (in socks, thank you very much). “Think you’re all set for the show then?” He fixed his Airpods. Using a cellphone was unsanitary- the amount of bacteria that accumulated on that thing was insane. Eddie wiped it down every chance he got, and held it a good few inches from his ear every time he used it. Richie must have noticed a few months in because the gift of wireless earbuds had shown up on his pillow the next day.

Eddie still kept a packet of disinfecting wipes with them in his pocket. Ears were gross too.

“Yeah.” Richie’s tone of voice dropped softer. The kind of tone he got when he was nervous. Eddie just wanted to crawl through the phone line and hold him, but that would have to wait until later. This was all part of the plan. “Wish you were here with me, Eds. This is fucking…something else.”

Soon enough. He’d be with him soon enough. That’s all Eddie had to keep repeating to himself. The whole plan had been last minute. Originally, Eddie really _ did _ have work that he could not get out of. He was already in hot water for taking so much time off, and then some on top of that as his divorce finalized, _ and _his move into Richie’s place became official.

Then, miraculously, he had managed to pull some strings to get his work-from-home transfer completed. No more intense stress of driving into the city every day, his therapist had said that the road rage was probably not a good thing- he even had an _ office _ now and not the extra room that had been immediately turned into Myra’s ‘studio space’. It was better for him- it was better for him _ and _his boyfriend.

Bev had helped him secure a flight at an opportune time. He could disguise not answering his phone as being at the office instead of flying into Los Angeles, even though Richie didn’t seem to take missed calls the same way Myra had. 

Anyway, he would have felt bad backtracking and changing the plans again, suddenly telling Richie he could go with him on his tour when he had previously said he couldn’t swing it. Even that was unofficial, Eddie had no idea how many days he could actually stay. All he knew was that he could swing the first show and the day after.

The first show, where Richie would actually come out.

It seemed oddly fitting that Richie would kick this off at the Orpheum. Despite being an East Coast boy by birth, Eddie had noticed that Richie had morphed into an odd bootleg version of a SoCal man.

So here he was, in the room at a hotel directly _ across _the street from Richie’s. It was Bill and Mike’s shared room. He was only here for the day, to get himself showered, changed and his things back into the rental car. Then he’d be at the show with the rest of the Losers.

None of which Richie knew about, of course. Which was the greatest surprise Eddie could ever think to be a part of, and also somehow the hardest.

Richie must be ready to explode from nerves and all Eddie wanted to do was grab his scruffy face and kiss them away. He wasn’t there to make sure his shirt was ironed before he went on stage or to double check that his tie wasn’t crooked, if he was even wearing one. All those little overbearing thoughts that he pushed aside for now. It wasn’t much longer anyways. The show was only a few hours off. Not much longer now.

Not much longer.

“I wish I was there too.” Eddie said, because he really did wish he was. “I’ll talk to you right after though, okay? You’ve taken down a fucking killer clown, Rich, this is a piece of cake.” he continued, pulling the curtain open finally and looking across the street.

Right in the hotel across- the room level with the one he was in- stood Richie in front of the window, scratching at his sort of beard, and looking right at his room.

Eddie barely stifled a squeak, twisting around and yanking the curtain closed immediately, pressing himself back against the window.

On the other end of the line, Richie laughed.

Time to play it cool, Kaspbrack. Come on.

“What?” He ventured, though it came out more snappish than he meant to.

“Jesus, Eddie. Don’t bite my fucking head off I just laughed.” He could almost see Richie pulling a face through tone alone, “Nothing. Just some fucking idiot in the hotel across spazzed. It was funny. I bet they fell.”

“It’s fucked up to laugh at other people, Rich.”

“Fuck you, I get paid for it.”

Distraction successful. Eddie had been worried that Richie would recognize him at a single glance.

Actually- he was slightly offended that his boyfriend _ didn’t. _

Eddie was peeking through the curtains cautiously when the hotel room door opened. He whipped around, spotting Bill finally bringing up his laptop that he had forgotten in the car and Mike- thank god for Mike- carrying three cups of coffee from the Starbucks down the street.

Bill opened his mouth to say something, but Eddie quickly put a finger to his lips, miming the most aggressively silent _ ‘shush’ _known to man. The author’s hands went up in surrender, one hand sliding from where it had been against Mike’s waist as he crossed the room to set his laptop down on the bed.

Mike twisted one of the cups around to check the names, then pointed at it with a raised brow in Eddie’s direction before setting it on the table. Eddie nodded in thanks- the six-hour flight had been brutal. Airports had so many fucking germs he had scrubbed off the second he stepped into the hotel.

“Ground control to Major Kaspbrack- you fucking good there, dude?” Richie’s voice finally broke through the barrier and to his brain, causing Eddie’s train of thought to be suddenly shoved back on the tracks. It jostled a little before chugging on.

“Yeah- fuck. Sorry. Spaced out.” He muttered, turning away from his friends and looking back at the closed curtains. Richie’s hum on the other end told him he was smiling. That soft, fond one that Eddie wanted to look at forever.

“Wow, boring you to death already. I can’t believe it- after eight-four years.”

“Fuck you, its been half a year.”

“I’m just saying, I don’t think the kids can handle a divorce. Its fucking messy as shit and mentally scarring for them…at such a young age too.”

“Plants don’t belong in custody battles. Besides, I’m the only one that takes care of them.”

“Yeah, but they see me as a strong father figure. How dare you fucking take that away from them.”

Eddie finally laughed, quiet and gentle as he ducked his head and pushed his foot at the ground. He noticed what could either be part of the odd pattern on the carpet or a questionable stain and pulled away immediately. Another mental note was made to pass by the front desk on the way out and ask them about their cleaning routine.

“And you’re gone again.” Richie observed, drawing out the first word and using it as a launch pad into the rest of his sentence.

“Carpet stain.” Eddie answered simply.

There was a click of the tongue on the other end of the line. “Right-o. That’s my cue then, before you freak the fuck out and bust out the bleach. I need to get ready anyways-“

“Please steam your fucking shirt, I’m begging you.”

“Jesus- fuck. Alright, I will, okay? Even though that’s literally going against my brand.”

On the other side of the room, Mike cleared his throat, pointing at his watch briefly.

Eddie could take a hint.

“You got this, Richie, okay?”

“Thanks for the peptalk, babe. You can knock it off now.”

“I love you.”

He didn’t mean to say it, but at the same time he did. The room got quiet. He could hear Richie drawing in a slow breath, the kind he only did when something truly caught him off guard.

“Yeah…yeah. You too, Eds.” He murmured, “Talk to you later-“And hung up immediately.

Eddie took the earbuds out slowly, rolling his lower lip between his teeth. There was a mixture of disappointment and happiness churning in his chest. An odd, off kilter concoction that made his stomach uneasy. He hadn’t meant to say it, and Richie didn’t exactly say it back.

He didn’t dismiss it either.

He took a deep breath. Turning to the rest of the room and staring at his two other friends. Eddie blinked, sorting through his feelings and his mind as he came back to the present. Every time he talked to Richie it felt like a void, a pocket of time that only held two of them and no one else.

Bill and Mike looked concerned. Eddie bit the tip of his tongue between his teeth and decided to say something.

“There’s a stain on your carpet. Don’t go near it until I get out the black light.”

\---

Beverly Marsh had her ways that none of the Losers could even begin to figure out.

She had gotten them all front row seats, right next to each other, center stage. Let them believe whatever they wanted about her seemingly magical powers of organize things all together in just the right way. Only her and Ben knew the truth.

Let them believe that the stage manager adored her solo brand and was an avid fashion fan, or that she called in favors from some NY Fashion Week past or promised someone a date with a model. 

No. Beverly Marsh just had the outstanding ability to do one thing most of her idiot boys couldn’t—

Think ahead.

She and Ben had sat up late one night, each of them on their respective laptops across the room from each other in her studio flat. A timer set for precisely the moment the tickets went on presale and snagged just the seats they needed.

She could tell them that. It would just be a simple shrug and an explanation. They would all be impressed and pat her back.

But then the mystery would be gone, and Bev liked keeping the boys in a bit of suspense. It kept them on their toes.

Eddie was a bundle of nerves next to her. He had shredded a tissue in his hands to a pulp, the scraps of the casualty littering his dark jeans. She smiled sympathetically, watching Bill hold his hand out towards him and wait patiently for him to pile his trash into it. Balling it up without a second thought, Bill pushed it into his cupholder to throw away later.

“So, we finally paid to see Trashmouth be funny instead of putting up with it for free.” He said, leaning over a little more from Eddie’s other side with a smile.

“I plan on making Rich reimburse me later.” Mike chimed in, making the author laugh and squeeze his hand.

“That’s a shitty move, Mike.” Bev was grinning, relaxed in feeling Ben’s hand affectionately playing with her fingers. She reached over and took one of Eddie’s hands with her free one, squeezing tight. He had begun to pick at his nails anxiously, and she wasn’t having that.

“Ten bucks say he doesn’t notice we’re here until halfway through the show.” Mike wagered, getting a little more comfortable in the theater seat.

“I say five minutes in.” Ben remarked after a thoughtful moment.

They all looked at Eddie, who looked like he was going to pop Bev’s fingers off from squeezing so tight. He came back to reality, glancing between all of them. “No, no…first time one of us laughs. He’ll know.”

Ben shrugged, “Eds knows him best.” He smiled immediately afterwards.

“Unfortunately.” Eddie was smiling now, but still squeezing the life out of Bev’s hand. At least that meant the gang had made progress in easing some of his secondhand anxieties.

When the lights went down, they all quieted. The second Richie’s announcement came on and that familiar, gangly comic went waltzing onto the stage Eddie seemed to relax.

Bill let out a loud whoop of a cheer, matched in enthusiasm by Mike and Ben respectively. Eddie started clapping, and Bev took a moment to remember how much she adored her little found family of fussy friends before she gave her own excited yell.

“Hey, LA, how are you doing tonight?” Richie called into the mic as he pulled it off the stand, “Look at you fuckers. Boy, do you have no idea what you’re in for.”

A cheer from the Losers once again seemed to catch his attention in no time. Eddie knew from the way Richie’s gaze flickered down and met with his own. He knew from the broad smile that spread across his lips and the sudden slack in his shoulders that they had done the right thing. Bev squeezed Eddie’s hand and shook it before lifting it up above their shoulders.

Richie’s smile widened, crinkling around his eyes and scrunching his glasses up on his nose before he looked back out at the crowd with seemingly more energy than two seconds ago.

“So normally, I make all these fucking jokes about my girlfriend, right?” Richie said, one hand resting against the mic stand and pushing it to tilt slightly. “Fucking masturbation jokes and shit- well- gotta edit that shit for a minute here ‘cause I don’t have a girlfriend walking in on me masturbating.”

One sarcastic ‘shocked’ gasp from the crowd got his attention.

“Yeah, yeah. I fucking know, right? Cause it’s obvious a guy like me can score a fucking girlfriend no problem. The ladies love me- but sorry ladies, cause the other day I came home to my germophobic boyfriend individually cleaning the keys on my fucking keyboard and now I’ve got a whole realm of new material.”

\--- 

“I’m fucking trending on Twitter, Eds! _ Trending _! And not for shit talking politicians this time--!”

Eddie looked over at his boyfriend from the hotel bathroom. Richie was lounging on the bed, relaxed and amped up at the same time, scrolling through his phone. Maybe it had something to do with how well coming out on stage had gone, or maybe it was the blow job Eddie had given him the second they got into Richie’s hotel room.

He removed the toothbrush from his mouth and spat out into the sink, grabbing a clean glass to rinse his mouth out with. “That was fast.”

The travel cap for his toothbrush was replaced thoughtfully, and he placed it to stand upright in the glass, not wanting any part of it to touch the counter even though he had already wiped it down with alcohol wipes.

“Pretty sure people were live tweeting during the show, but what can you do.” Richie grinned, tossing his phone to the side and looking back over at Eddie. He looked him up and down, then stuck both arms out and promptly made a grabbing motion like a needy child.

Eddie laughed softly, crossing the room and climbing back onto the bed with him. He expected a soft kiss, yes, and to be held- both of which he received for a moment or two before Richie aggressively flipped them onto their sides and curled around him possessively. Eddie gave an undignified screech, flailing before going boneless on the bed.

“Fuck you, man. Don’t fucking scare me like that— One of these days you’re gonna knock me out banging my fucking head on the headboard-- ”

“Tough shit, dude. You’re gonna deal with this because all of you assholes decided to just show up randomly.” Richie was kissing his neck now, shifting his weight to press Eddie back down against the bed and climb on top of him.

He slotted between Eddie’s legs like he belonged there.

“Mm…they all want to see pictures of you now.” Richie murmured, his lips somewhere around Eddie’s collarbone, long fingers tugging the neck of his polo shirt aside after undoing the buttons.

“Who does?” Eddie’s voice came out breathy and soft, thankfully not a byproduct of asthma this time. His eyes slid closed, because Rich had a way of breaking down his defenses slowly and skillfully.

“All these fucking teenagers that just followed me on Twitter.” His hand slid down to tug Eddie’s polo free from where it was tucked into his jeans, touch dancing where the warm strip of skin met the worn demine fabric.

Eddie shivered, “…Are you trying to get me to make a fucking Twitter again?”

“Yup. I’m out now- I can fucking show you off.” Richie popped open the button of his jeans, then moved to push Eddie’s shirt up as much as he could. His actions perfectly mirrored Richie’s excited ramblings. Distracted, yet goal driven.

Eddie gasped when warm fingers pinched his nipple suddenly, arching his back as much as he could from being trapped under the six-foot body of Richie Tozier. Before he could reply in that moment, Richie’s mouth claimed his in a slow, adoring kiss. Eddie came to enough sense to get his fingers into his hair, holding on tight.

“And I’m gonna fucking show you off.” Richie was still going, mouth pressed against his boyfriend’s. “I fucking have you, and I’m not letting go, Eds.”

Eddie felt drunk on his lips, on his touch alone. Maybe it was the leftover haze of arousal from earlier, or maybe just the fact that Richie always made him feel this way. The fingers were trailing over the scar on his chest now, the familiar staggering movement of Richie tracing them as if he were reliving the moment.

The blood and the searing pain of the chance they almost lost.

“Yeah- yeah, Rich. You’ve got me.” Eddie mumbled, his hand meeting Richie’s own and squeezing tight. He was here. He was right here, and he was not going anywhere.

Kissing him again, Eddie sat up enough to free himself of his shirt, starting to fold it up before Richie snatched it out of his hands and tossed it aside. “Dude- quit it with the fucking folding shit. Live a little and be sexy- I mean you’re already sexy, but you know what I mean.”

“Fuck you! It’s gonna be wrinkled now!”

“Yeah, and you have six other shirts in your suitcase that aren’t. Six shirts for staying _ one _night, you fucking insane tiny little--”

Eddie pulled a face, and grabbed a handful of Richie’s ass, pulling their hips together and eliciting the moan he had been looking for.

“Okay, okay, point taken.” Richie’s voice sounded slightly breathy, which counted as another tally for Eddie’s mental scoreboard. Eddie caught his lips in a silent apology which he did not mean in the slightest.

They fell back into the familiar rhythm of kissing and touching. Richie’s hands skillfully undressing him, exploring his skin. The hot breath of Richie’s voice in his ear murmuring praises and affections that went straight to his cock. In all honesty, the best foreplay was just Richie _ talking. _

Like hell Eddie would let him know that.

It was something in the way Richie was going off tonight. Talk about showing Eddie off, about telling the world how proud he was of him, how perfect he was, how—

“--much I fucking love you, Eds.”

His heart stammered to a halt, then kicked back up again in his chest, pounding harder than ever. He had a hand in Richie’s hair when he had said it, and one resting against the small of his back. A leg was hooked around Richie’s, heel traveling high against the back of his thigh in a form of flexibility he really shouldn’t have in his forties, but his boyfriend seemed to draw it out of him. Eddie went as still as a statue.

“…you okay? Fuck, Eds- you said it earlier so I just fucking thought—you know, forget about it, okay? Fucking forget it I didn’t fucking say it just—”

Eddie used his leverage on Richie’s hair to pull him in, kissing him hard.

“Shut up. Just shut the fuck up, Rich. I love you too, okay? Fucking idiot—”

The laugh that Richie gave into the millimeters between them was one Eddie would have stuck in his mind for years and years to come. It felt like all of their lives had been leading up to this moment.

A childhood with as many traumatizing memories as there were fond ones. Twenty-seven years of forgetting, of piecing together a life even though parts were missing. A messy divorce mashed together with the happiest time of his life. Perfect morning after morning of waking up in Richie’s arms- the pair of them soft with sleep. The only morning breath he didn’t mind.

Richie was just full of exceptions, wasn’t he? No one else would Eddie share a drink with or stay next to when he was sick. The first cold Richie had caught was an experience for them both, but Eddie had stayed despite everything, and pulled out every trick in the book to help him feel better. No one else would warrant the kind of Eddie Kaspbrack care that Richie did.

No one else loved Richie like Eddie did.

“So…you love me a whole lot, right?” Richie was saying, drawing Eddie out of his thoughts and straight into suspicion.

“…why?”

“Just asking,” A kiss was placed to the corner of his mouth, “’Cause, like—” A kiss to the puckered scar on his cheek, “I’ve been kinda thinking about your tight, little fucking body riding the hell out of me—”

“Well isn’t that fucking romantic.” Eddie snorted, turning his head to try and catch his lips even as Richie teasingly pulled away.

“Only the best for you, baby.”

He weighed his options, then smiled slowly. “…Fucking…_ fine _\- but lay back and let me move the bed away from the wall a little bit. I don’t wanna fuck up the wallpaper.”

Richie’s laugh was one to die for, “Its not even _ our _wallpaper- hotels are made for fucking, dude! It’s what everyone’s done! The last people here probably had a wild sex romp for like six days straight-“

“Oh my fucking god can we not talk about how many people have had sex on this bed before us? What the _ fuck, _man.”

“Don’t freak out on me now, Eds, they change the sheets—”

“Yeah but not the _ mattress _\--!”

The conversation may have delayed a good sex romp of their own by thirty minutes, but watching Eddie on the phone interrogating the front desk about how often they changed out mattresses and bedsheets—

Richie Tozier felt like the luckiest man in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Now onto the other Reddie fics I've been working on because I have no self control. 
> 
> Want to scream with me about Reddie? Follow me in Twitter @acornandroid I'd be very happy to talk with any of you


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